


the kiss of an angel

by ggenevive



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Neoplatonic love, this is a sad story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 11:22:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29932689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ggenevive/pseuds/ggenevive
Summary: the one where George doesn't think he's worthy
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 27





	the kiss of an angel

**Author's Note:**

> it's a sad story but I needed to get it out. 
> 
> the pov in this is George's and the 'he' is Dream if u didn't get that
> 
> !!TW!! Suicidal thoughts, Suicide

There's something careless about the way he loves me.

He gives me every part of him without a second thought. 

His love is tender and warm and it reminds me to breathe on days I forget how to.

He tells me that it's the only way he knows how to love. And it hurts. Because I feel selfish, ungrateful, and undeserving of his love. How am I supposed to take all the love he's giving me? I cannot possibly carry it all.

A familiar doubt sinks into my soul, I know that I am not worthy of his love. I don't know how to give him the love I know he deserves.

I don't know why he loves me. What makes me so special?

Slowly turning my head to gaze at him, I carefully commit every detail of him to memory. His face is relaxed and sunkissed.

It appears that my lover is almost glowing. Almost.

His breathing is slow and quiet, disappearing behind the soothing sounds of the meadow.

Silently bringing my hand up to his face, my touch is only whispers of a past memory.

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. All I need is you," I can hear my voice break, even if he cannot, "I know that now." And I know my love cannot hear me, at least not anymore, but it doesn't stop me from screaming all the words I wish I had said. 

My head falls, resting on his once familiar torso. 

Oh, how I crave to feel the comforting warmth of him that I once felt. My own pitiful sobs wrack through my body, and I can feel them tearing me apart into a thousand little pieces.

I know if he could hear me now, he'd hold me until I felt ok again. He'd whisper sweet nothings into my ear and tell me stories about our future. 

I was foolish, I know this now, death did not release me from the guilt and anxiety that plagued my living self. It only took me from my home. There are no more hugs to ground me anymore, and there are no more kisses that steal my breath and sadness simultaneously.

The sole thing I can do is confront my anger and sorrow.

I had screamed until my throat was red and raw. How could I do this to myself? He was my lifeline and I let go.

I know I wasn't worth it, but his love made me feel as if I was. 

My single regret is not loving him the way he had loved me. I didn't know how to. I gave him everything I could and my lover never once complained. 

He was patient with me from day one. He was never angry with me. He was rough when I needed him to be rough with me and he was tender when I needed him to be tender with me. He let me define each and every boundary; letting me explore his body with no limits, for as long as I wanted. He never made me feel greedy or guilty. He took all the love I could give him and held it as carefully as one would hold a newborn baby. 

I watched the sunset as my lover laid in the field and I think back to my last night on Earth. 

I wanted to go quietly because I couldn't bear to cause him the pain of finding me. 

I knew he would be ok. 

I remember how my hands had shaken violently as I poured the pills out. 

I remember thinking it was too hard to continue living. That I was in too deep and there was no other way out. I couldn't bear to break his heart trying to explain why I wasn't worth his love and time. 

I remember looking down at my own body and not recognizing it. I looked small, my bones poking out from beneath my skin in many places, my hair was dull, and my skin had lost all its color. 

I now realize that the love I was running from was really my hope. The love that I was terrified of was my salvation. 

If only I hadn't understood that too late. 

I remember watching him quietly enter our apartment, tiptoeing around the house as to not wake me. If only he knew I wouldn't be waking up anytime soon.

I remember watching him flick on the hallway light and glance in the bedroom, not yet registering that I was no longer breathing.

I remember watching him come into the small bedroom and quickly change before turning to kiss me goodnight, only to be greeted by my cold, dead skin.

I saw it in his eyes. The moment of recognition. The waves of sadness pushing out silent tears.

I had been long dead, my body cold and my eyes lifeless.

He sank down onto the floor, his large hand tightly gripping my smaller one. 

The silence was deafening. 

And yet, he still wasn't angry with me. Even as he sat on the cold wood floor, grasping his dead boyfriend's hand, there was no anger in his expression. I watched him cry for what felt like an eternity, losing myself in the love that tore my beloved apart. 

How could he still love me? 

I remember the ambulance taking my body away.

He didn't move the whole time, unable to speak to anyone. He watched as our closest friends slowly filled up the tiny apartment, busying themselves with chores and attempting to comfort their best friend while grieving another. 

I remember when he finally kicked them all out, his mind so clearly elsewhere.

My companion seemed empty. Moving throughout his day like a robot.

People offered their compassion in passing glances and murmured words, but he only nodded and continued with his work.

Slowly, I watched him come back to life, but something never seemed quite right. It was like he would never be who he once was.

It took me a while to understand that he was missing me. It took me even longer to understand that he needed me as much as I needed him.

I remember attending my own funeral. My lover said very little, but what he did say stuck with me, 'He and I are one. We were made from the same dirt and one day, I'll return to him there.'

I didn't understand. Why was he still holding onto our love? How could he still love me when I wasn't around to love? How could he promise me his love eternally? 

Those questions I still don't have answers to. 

Cautiously taking in my soulmate’s beauty one last time, I knew at that moment, I had to let him go. 

Pressing a gentle kiss on his lips, I swear he knows I am here. A single tear rolled down his cheek and in the dim evening light, eyes still closed, his raspy voice spoke, “I still love you."

And even though I know he cannot hear me, I answered him, “Me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Lmk if you enjoyed this story and if I should keep writing romance stories! Thank you for reading and lots of love <3


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